


I'm Flying

by Nikolaus_Chaser



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boats and Ships, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-14 22:11:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9205334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikolaus_Chaser/pseuds/Nikolaus_Chaser
Summary: “Showing you Titanic was the worst decision I’ve ever made.”Castiel and Dean board Bobby's shrimping boat to help him with the summer harvest.





	

The wood floor of the bow creaks faintly beneath bare feet, cold water spraying the air and leaving a salty dew on every surface in its wake.  The small ship rocks back and forth on the water, ocean waves crashing against the hull.  Above the noise of the waves laughter is audible, beatific and bright like the sun beating down on the deck and the people standing on it.

Dean’s skin glistens in the sunshine, sweat and salt water sparkling against his freckled arms and chest.  Castiel turns his face away from the glare of the sun, grinning like the dickens as he leads Dean towards the very edge of the ship, fingers grasping the slippery railing as he leans over the side.  Water sprays his face and he laughs again, slicking his now-soaked hair back with one hand and using the other to hoist himself up onto the railing.  His toes curl around the metal bar just as Dean surges forward and curls his arms around Castiel’s waist, holding onto the man tight as he can.

“Cas, if you fall…”

“I’m not going to fall,” Castiel insists, smile easy when he looks back at Dean’s concerned expression.  “You’re going to hold me.”

Dean can’t help his cheeks turning red at Castiel’s words; the way he says it so simply and with such assurance that Dean will, in fact, be there to hold onto him.  His arms tighten around Castiel’s lithe hips almost instinctively, and he hides his growing smile in the small of the other man’s back as he climbs up higher.  He has both feet balanced on the highest rail now, leaning his weight back on Dean as he spreads his arms and laughs when the wind hits his face.

“I’m flying, Dean!” He calls, and Dean laughs, finally pulling Cas back down onto the deck and turning him around.  He cups his face, wet from the ocean breeze and wrinkled with smile lines, and kisses him with an open mouth.  Castiel returns the kiss enthusiastically, grasping at Dean’s arms and pulling his body closer, tongue licking into Dean’s mouth and claiming the space as his own.  Dean allows it happily because it’s true; his heart and every other piece of him belongs entirely to the man standing before him now.

“You’re an idiot,” Dean teases once they finally pull apart, though he can’t help but smile when Cas shrugs and flicks his wet hair away from his face once more, giving Dean an unconvinced side eye.

“Oh, yeah, like you don’t want to hop up there and hang from the bobstay like Leonardo DiCaprio,” he says wryly.  Dean crosses his arms over his chest and huffs.

“Showing you _Titanic_ was the worst decision I’ve ever made.”

“Yes, well, you’re not denying that it is something you would like to do.”

Dean bites his lip coyly, then in a sudden act of dauntlessness hops up, one foot on the slippery rail and the other wrapped around the sturdy rope which was attached to the bowsprit.  He throws his free hand into the air, letting out a triumphant cry as he screams, _“I’m the King of the World!”_

“You’re the King of the Idgits, ‘swhat you are.  Get down from there before you break your neck, or something’ worse,” Bobby’s gruff voice carries over the sound of the waves and Dean’s whooping, and he and Castiel look over to see the man leaning against the helm with an unamused look on his face.  Dean hops down from the ropes with surprising agility, wrapping an arm around Cas’s waist and smiling sheepishly over at Bobby.

“Sorry Bobby, just having some fun with the fiancé,” he grins, and Castiel blushes.  Bobby makes a grunting sound and turns away, fiddling with some dials on the ship’s control panel.

“Yeah, well, knock it off.  This is a shrimpin’ boat, not the damn Titanic,” he grouses, but then his features soften, and he looks over at Dean and Castiel with something soft like affection.  “Supper’s ready downstairs, if you’re hungry.  We’ll be docking and unloading in the wee hours of the morning, so I suggest you two get your rest now before the hard work really starts.”

Dean smiles and nods, saluting to the older man and shouting in a sing-song voice, “Sir, yes, sir!”

Bobby clouts him upside the head as he passes by, and Dean laughs his entire way down into the cabin, Castiel smirking by his side.


End file.
